


Soft

by Lord_Twinkle



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I'm Sorry Neil Gaiman, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 19:21:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19235500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_Twinkle/pseuds/Lord_Twinkle
Summary: Where a certain demon has a soft sex kink, but would rather be discorporated than admit it. Aziraphale is very much aware of this and is all too pleased to help his dear Crowley.





	Soft

**Author's Note:**

> So... This is actually my first time posting anything on this site! (Please be gentle in the comment section.) Also, English is not my first language: feel free to point out mistakes.
> 
> Good Omens has taken over my entire life and I might love Ineffable Husbands more than anything ever.
> 
> I guess that's why this happened.
> 
> Hope you enjoy :3

“What are you doing Angel?” Crowley asked, grinning and giving a slight resistance as Aziraphale attempted to drag him into their bedroom.

“I thought it might be nice to try something different tonight,” the angel answered. He gave his lover the serious look: “Do you trust me?”

Aziraphale looked rather pleased with himself, barely masking his excitement as he waited for the demon's permission. How could Crowley ever say no? Especially when it came to this: they'd had their fair share of experiments in the bedroom by now, but having the Angel take the lead was extremely attractive. Of course he trusted him.

At the Angel's indications, the demon laid himself on their bed. Aziraphale tied him to the bedposts with soft ribbons, spreading him out for whatever he had in mind. Crowley's dick throbbed just imagining what he would do to him.

“Is that alright, love? Not too tight?” the angel asked. The demon nodded, and the angel gave him a quick kiss before backing away to look at his handy work.

He snapped his fingers, magicking all of Crowley's clothes away. Aziraphale took in his demon like he was a piece of art or, more likely, an ancient tome he'd been dying to get his hands on. But, Crowley thought, he was in fact an occult entity who was ready to be fucked so hard they would hear him scream all the way down into the deepest pits of Hell.

Aziraphale moved around the bed and delicately removed Crowley's sunglasses:

“In all of Creation, which events conspired to make you so beautiful?” The angel whispered with a smile full of adoration.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, a fierce blush taking over his face. “Get on with it you big softy.”

Aziraphale gave him one last tender look and moved to straddle him. Crowley hungrily waited. What would it be? Oh, what would it be? 

A new toy to stretch him open deliciously? A nipple clamp that would make him buck his hips with want? A rough pounding mixed with filthy words whispered in his ear (although he wasn't sure the angel had it in him)? But none of these things came.

What came next was entirely unexpected. Aziraphale leaned over him and brushed his lips against the demon's sharp hips and left a trail of tender kisses on his way to his belly, his nose barely brushing his skin and sending jolts of electricity through his spine. Despite his best efforts, Crowley's breath hitched.

When the initial surprise was through, Crowley raised his head, eyebrows furrowed in his best impression of disdain.

“What the hell do you think you're doing, Angel?!”

“Taking care of you,” Aziraphale said like it was so painfully clear. “I'm a being of love Crowley, and I thought you might like... -”

“- Angeeeel,” he whined all his neediness seeping through. “You tied me up! I liked that part! Now stop dillydallying and FUCK me!”

“My dear, as much as I like 'fucking you', as you put it, it does seem like you rather likes this” he said while he continued to softly worship his lovers chest and neck with kisses, each one making Crowley gasp and flush a little more. He cursed his treacherous body.

Crowley started to fight against his bonds, but stopped to bite his lower lip and use all his concentration not to moan as Aziraphale started playing with his nipples. He teased at them with his teeth and by tracing slow languorous circles with his tongue. He switched between the two, while his hand wondered lower and lower over his stomach. Crowley tightened his fists, his breathing becoming more ragged by the minute.

“I-I don't, I can't,” he gritted his teeth. If he could move a flaming car halfway through England by shear force of will, he'd be damned if he let this undo him. But he wished he still had his sunglasses on, so his angel couldn't see how his eyes fluttered with pleasure.

“I just want to try this,” Aziraphale said. “Just this one time. Do it for me, please?”

“Angel...”

“Look at me straight in the eyes and tell me to stop. I promise I will.”

The light haired man backed away, leaving him feeling terribly lonely, and waited patiently for an answer. Crowley opened his mouth, and closed it right back. His dick was protesting at the loss of contact, and he dearly wanted release. And Aziraphale... His angel looked so sincere, so eager to please. Would giving in one time really be so bad? Doing it for Aziraphale. Not for himself, just to be clear. Yes, he could make that sacrifice.

For once in his life, Crowley shut his mouth. Aziraphale took this as permission to continue his ministrations. Slow and thorough and enthusiastic, like with everything else Aziraphale loved. Crowley was now making very small needy noises that he would deny until the end of times. The angel moved from his nipples to his mouth where he pressed feather-light kisses. Softer than anything Crowley had ever experienced in 6000 years. So terrifyingly glorious. They felt like something Crowley had known once, a long time ago when he was still full of Grace. Something he had shoved deep inside of him in, locked away in vault after vault so it would never see the light of day again.

 _Mmmh... Oh my - Oh fuck._ He thought.

Aziraphale kissed him like he was loved and beautiful, something to cherish and to keep whole. He kissed him like he had never Fallen. Like he wasn't literally a creature from Hell, full of anger and hunger, and damnation. Aziraphale touched him like he deserved his love, like he was worthy of it.

And the worst of it? Crowley wanted to believe it was true. And that, **that** was the most terrifying thing of them all: how could he ever be worthy of Aziraphale? The holiest, most divine angel of them all? He couldn't. The impossibility of it was maddening.

The sensations taking over his body made him bite his lips until he drew blood. He could almost convince himself that the tears in his eyes were due to the pain and not the implacable thought that he just wasn't good enough for Aziraphale. He would never be.

“W-wait, An-angel,” his voice was so shaky, it made him irritated. “ **Stop!** ”

Aziraphale looked up, grey stormy eyes meeting yellow ones, a worried expression on his face.

“Are you alright, dear? Did I hurt you?”

He moved strands of hair that had fallen into disarray onto the demon's face, and his hands spoke of utter adoration. It was all too much for Crowley. He couldn't lie to Aziraphale or come up with some bullshit excuse like he would with anyone else. He could never bring himself to do so around the angel. He'd promised he never would.

“Crowley?” continued the angel, concern growing by the demon's obvious distress.

The thing is, Crowley desperately wanted to deserve this stupidly perfect creature of light. To deserve the way Aziraphale touched him. It was against his very nature, but he would gladly let it destroy him if it meant he could be worth a hundredth of the love he saw in those eyes.

“Please don't be nice to me, Angel,” he said instead, like the coward he was, “It's not worth it.”

He clenched his jaw shut before he could say anything that would betray the extent of his feelings. Aziraphale cupped the demons face, pretending he didn't see the tears falling for the sake of the demon's pride.

“Anthony J. Crowley... You listen to me, you silly snake,” he said softly, but firmly. “We didn't survive 6000 years of awkward flirting, Armageddon, and the wrath of both Heaven and Hell for you to push me away now. I chose our side. I chose you. Nothing I have ever done on this Earth would have been worth while if it hadn't been done by your side. And nothing you can ever say or do will make me think otherwise. So please, Crowley: let me be nice to you.”

Crowley peered into Aziraphale's eyes, both confused and awe stricken, searching for the lie. He couldn't find one. And he couldn't breathe. His lungs felt like they were made of thin glass - ready to explode at any moment.

“I need you to untie me. Untie me now. _Now,_ ” he mumbled with increasing urgency.

Aziraphale didn't lose one minute, fumbling with the restraints. As the first hand came free, he flung it and latched on to Aziraphale's collar, bringing him down to meet his lips. His breath was shallow and still full of want, “I need you close to me. I want to touch you. I _need_ to touch you.”

The second he was free, Crowley sat up, wrapped his arms around his angels waist and buried his face in his chest, breathing him in like he needed it for his survival. Aziraphale held him close, pressing kindness into his skin with his hands and his mouth, making sure there were no parts of his lovers skin that went unattended. In a matter of minutes, Crowley was trembling, and let excited noises of pleasure escape him. Aziraphale scooped him up to his knees, and placed his leg between Crowley's, letting the man grind his hips against him hungrily.

Aziraphale touched him in all the ways he hadn't known he needed. His breath hitched when he realized that his angel had probably spent so much time charting every inch of his flesh – what made him buck, what made him preen, what made him lose his mind. It made him feel vulnerable in a way he had never allowed himself to be before.

The way Aziraphale used is hands on him, how he whispered soft words of praise in his ear, how he used his lips to ravish his own... It would never be a sin. It couldn't be. Because everything Aziraphale did was out of pure, honest love. And Aziraphale loved him. Loved him until Crowley almost forgot how to hate himself.

When Crowley came, a shivering mess melting into Aziraphale's chest, the angel wrapped him in his arms and his wings – a cocoon protecting them from everything outside.

No, Crowley did not deserve this perfect being of light. But he would be damned (even more so) if he ever let go of them. He guessed, he would just have to learn what the angel saw in him, and find peace in that. For Aziraphale.

 


End file.
